Dilly Court - The Christmas Rose

‘Oh, I see.’ Rose stared straight ahead. ‘I am grateful to you …’ she hesitated. ‘What do I call you?’

‘When we’re working you call me Guvnor.’

‘Yes, Guvnor.’

‘That’s right – you’re learning. But when we get to Eastcheap, keep out of the way. Don’t expect me to look after you. You’re just a bystander.’

‘I understand.’

‘Good. Then we’ll get along well. I think it must have been pretty rough in the goldfields, but I doubt if you’ll have experienced anything like the violence of some of the street gangs that still exist in the East End. Although what we’re heading for is probably just a brawl between rival costermongers, which won’t make the front page.’

‘I’m not scared,’ Rose repeated stoutly and, to her surprise, she realised that she was more excited than anxious.

The cab slowed down and the trap door in the roof opened suddenly.

‘We’re here, guv.’

Eugene handed the driver some coins without bothering to ask the fare, and made ready to spring out as the cab drew to a halt. Rose was left to alight on her own and she found herself at the back of a jeering, bellowing crowd. Eugene had disappeared and she experienced a moment of panic, but she was also curious and, forgetting his instructions to stay back, she pushed her way through the bodies until she had a view of the fray.

As Eugene had suspected, the fight was between a group of burly costermongers who were throwing punches, kicking, shouting and swearing. It was a mêlée of fists, feet and bleeding noses, and her heart missed a beat or two as she saw Eugene wade in, accompanied by two police constables armed with truncheons. The sound of running feet preceded the arrival of their colleagues, and the ear-splitting sound of their whistles momentarily silenced the onlookers.

Rose craned her neck in order to get a better view and saw Eugene pulling two men apart and holding them at arm’s length, even though they struggled to break free. She had put him down as a bit of a dandy at first sight, but the man she saw now was a completely different person. And, as if joining in a brawl was not bad enough, Eugene was grinning broadly as if he were enjoying the fracas.

Suddenly it was over, and the police had taken control of the street. The antagonists were bundled into a Black Maria and driven away, and there was a general scramble as children and adults alike fell on the fruit and vegetables that were strewn over the cobblestones. Rose waited until Eugene had finished speaking to the police sergeant who had brought the reinforcements, then she hurried to his side.

‘Are you hurt?’

As he met her anxious gaze she could tell by the fire in his eyes and his triumphant smile that he had enjoyed the altercation.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘Your nose is bleeding, and I think you’ll have a black eye by morning.’

‘Have you got a handkerchief, Munday? I seem to have forgotten mine.’

She took a small cotton hanky from her reticule. Sadie had embroidered it with her initials and rosebuds, but within seconds it was covered in blood. ‘Maybe you should sit down, Guvnor,’ she said hastily.

He clamped the hanky to his nose. ‘I’m not a little girl, Munday. It’s just a spot or two of blood and it’ll stop soon. Come on, let’s get you back to your friend in Black Raven Court before another scrap starts.’ He nodded towards an irate costermonger, who was berating a gang of young boys for helping themselves to the apples that had fallen to the ground.

‘You can put your arm around my shoulders if you feel faint,’ Rose insisted. ‘You’re very pale.’

‘Good grief, are you my mother now, Munday?’ he said laughing. ‘I want to see you safe and then I’ve got a story to write up.’

Rose fell into step beside him and she realised with a sense of fulfilment that she was beginning to recognise landmarks as they made their way along Great Tower Street. They were closer to Black Raven Court than she had supposed, but when Eugene saw the house he was obviously unimpressed.

‘This is worse than I remembered,’ he said angrily. ‘This isn’t the sort of place for a young woman like you, Munday.’

Rose knocked on the door. ‘I was lucky to be brought here. I could have spent the night sitting on a crate in the station yard.’

‘This won’t do. There must be a way to get in touch with your fellow’s relations. They’re responsible for you in his absence.’

‘I’ll be fine, Guvnor. It would have been so much easier if those men hadn’t taken over the Captain’s House.’

‘You mentioned that place over luncheon,’ Eugene said, frowning thoughtfully. ‘You might not be able to make enquiries, but I can. Leave it to me, and—’ He broke off as the door opened.

‘Oh, it’s you.’ Flossie drew her wrap up to her neck, although Rose was uncomfortably aware that Eugene must have seen her state of undress. ‘Who’s this with you, Rosie? Have you brought your fancy man home with you?’

‘No! I have not,’ Rose protested angrily. ‘Shame on you, Flossie.’

‘A very natural mistake,’ Eugene said, bowing. ‘A pleasure to meet you, Miss er …’

‘Flossie Boxer, sir.’

Rose glared at Eugene. ‘Thank you for seeing me home, Guvnor. Hadn’t you best get back to the office?’

‘I’ll see you at half-past eight in the morning, Munday. Don’t be late.’ Eugene walked away, waving the bloodied hanky like a flag.

Flossie leaned out of the door. ‘Where’d you find a chap like that? I’d do him favours for nothing.’

Torn between laughter and annoyance, Rose shook her finger at Flossie. ‘He’s my guvnor. I’ve got a job and I can pay my way, or I will be able to when I get my wages.’

‘Some people have all the luck.’ Flossie glowered at a passing youth who whistled at her and offered a penny for her services. She retreated into the house. ‘You’d best come in, although what Cora will say when she sees you is another matter. She needs her room for business, and Regan will want his piece of you if you choose to stay here. None of us gets a free ride, so to speak.’

‘I haven’t much choice at the moment.’ Rose made for the stairs. ‘Is Cora in?’

‘Dunno, love. I ain’t seen her today. She might be in the pub, touting for business, but she don’t lock her door. We’re an honest lot in here.’ Flossie followed Rose up the stairs, her stays creaking like the masts on a tea clipper at every tortuous step. ‘I’ll be in my room if you need me, duck.’

‘Thanks, Flossie.’ Rose tried the door to Cora’s room, and, finding it unlocked, she went inside to wait for her friend’s return. She sat on the unmade bed for a few minutes, gazing round at the disarray, and suddenly, unable to bear the mess any longer, she leaped off the bed and began to tidy things away. She ventured down to the basement where Cora had told her there was a communal kitchen, although, judging by the thick layer of grease and dust, not many took advantage of the facilities. There was a stone sink in a small scullery and a pump out in the yard close to the privy. Rose filled a bucket with water, but there was no means of heating it as the ancient range was covered in rust and it did not look as if a fire had been lit for some time. Rose hefted the bucket upstairs, together with an empty flour sack she had found in the larder.

Back in Cora’s room, she set about a cleaning project that took all her energy and ingenuity. She swept the grate and put the cinders into the sack together with the contents of the overflowing ashtray and the paper wrappings of past meals, which were green with mould. It took a couple of trips down to the back yard to dispose of the rubbish, and she scraped together enough coal and kindling to get a fire going. With the kettle on a trivet, and the room beginning to look almost homely, Rose was folding the last of Cora’s discarded clothing when the door opened and Cora herself breezed into the room. She was followed by a burly person wearing soiled workman’s clothes and muddy boots.